Page 29 of Sweet Tooth
After Zane and I had tucked Parker in and given him a hug, I went into the kitchen, leaning on the counter.
“What is it?” Zane said.
“Those skates Parker wants. They cost $300.” I shook my head. “No way can I afford them this year. He’d going to be disappointed.”
Zane’s expression was unreadable. “These things have a way of working themselves out.”
An ache whined in my upper back and I turned to Zane. “Want to go in the hot tub?”
A smile quirked on Zane’s mouth. “Hot tub?”
“I know what you’re thinking,” I said. “But it was Paul’s. He bought it with money we didn’t have, then defaced it while drunk one time. So the resale value is nil.”
“Ah,” Zane said, following me downstairs.
As we walked, I could feel the cool of the pendant between my breasts. Would Zane notice? Would he say anything?
As we got into the basement, I flicked the light on, going to the hot tub that was set up in the corner. There were candles arranged on the outer edges. This was my quiet place, my place to relax and unwind with a glass of wine and soft lighting and hot jets pounding the ache from my sore muscles after a long day at work.
As I started the jets and checked the temperature, Zane lit the candles: one scented one after the other, and the aromas of vanilla, cranberry, and cookie all wafted to form a pleasing mix. I quickly shed my clothes and when Zane turned back toward me, he froze.
“Whoa,” he said softly.
As he regained his senses and pulled off his clothes, I slipped into the water. His gaze did the rounds, taking in my naked form, mostly obscured by the hot water and my half-smile. It stopped on my locket.
“You kept it,” he croaked, his gaze finding mine.
“All this time…” He clambered into the tub with me and pressed his kiss to my lips.
“You never stopped loving me either, did you?” He studied my face and must’ve seen the answer there without me even responding.
My body was responding for me, anyway. Every touch. Every deepening kiss.
Yes, yes, and yes.
With him cupping my face, as if letting go would make me disappear, Zane kissed me with a depth of feeling that shook me to my core. With my hands racing through his thick brown waves, I kissed him.
When his hand went between my legs, I couldn’t help it.
“Zane,” I said quietly. How could you leave me for so long?”
He lifted me from the tub and wrapped me in a nearby towel. Blowing out the candles, he carried me upstairs to my room. Once we were in bed, curled up together, he started talking. In the dark, his eyes were glassy marbles filled with seven years’ worth of regret.
“I’d figured that kicking the drinking habit would be hard. I had no clue just how hard, though.”
I didn’t say anything. Zane just wanted me here to listen, to understand.
“The year after I left you and moved away, I broke down. I felt terrible, I kept having nightmares of you dying in that car crash. I couldn’t sleep. Could hardly eat. All I could bear to do was drink. And hate myself for it, for doing what had almost made me lose you. For doing what was keeping me from you. Finally, after a good ten months of that bullshit – losing jobs, drinking more and more, I finally had had it. I checked myself into rehab.”
I exhaled. So that was it. What Zane hadn’t wanted to tell me about. But that was how he’d kicked the drinking habit.
“But that wasn’t it,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “Not by a long shot. That rehab was just the first time. No matter how much I pushed myself, how much I hated myself for letting you down, letting myself down, I just couldn’t stop. As soon as I got out with old friends and went out to a bar, a restaurant, the old habits would creep back in and I’d be a mess again. Finally, I couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t lie to myself that it’d be ok.”
In the half-dark, Zane’s face had taken on a peculiar pallor.
“I left, partially expecting never to come back again,” he said quietly. “Thinking it was for the best anyway. That I wouldn’t hurt you or let anyone down anymore.”
“What are you talking about?” I said.
“I went abroad is what I’m talking about.” Zane smiled a little at the shock on my face. “For a year. I took a bus to Mexico and started walking. I’d do manual labor wherever I could. Slept in whatever hotel had room. Almost got myself killed a few times.”
“But why? Why go at all?”
He shrugged. “I wanted to be a different person and had tried all the usual ways with no luck. There was only one thing I hadn’t tried and that was just going somewhere where I wasn’t expected to be me. In Mexico, I didn’t know anyone, didn’t have to be anyone. I was just some guy doing some work, wandering around, getting paid under the table and not drinking.”
